


Salt and steel

by inquisitor_tohru



Series: Far Above the Moon [14]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Stubble, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8782963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: Ren's been away too long, but Phasma's a fan of his new look.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladystark25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladystark25/gifts).



Phasma smiled as his stubble grazed her cheek - as sure a sign as any that he’d been planetside longer than anticipated. She cared not for whatever mystic artefacts Leader Snoke had hoped to recover from Mortis. _Soldiers_ would win this war, not ancient Jedi trinkets. But orders were orders.

She weaved her fingers into Ren’s hair, much longer than she remembered and tied back in a single thick braid, and guided him to her lips. He tasted the same as always - plush lips laced with salt and steel, and a faint but lingering sweetness. More than once, she had wondered if this was the taste of the Force, or just another of Ren’s own peculiarities. He laughed softly as they bumped noses, the two of them relearning the motions that had become so practiced before their time apart. 

“I’ll shave,” he promised, running his fingers over his jawline. Phasma took his hand in hers and leaned forward, nipping the fingertip of his glove with her teeth and giving a short, sharp tug.

“It doesn’t conform to regulation,” she agreed, tossing the glove aside. “But then, as I understand it, neither does your position within the Order.”

“I’m surprised,” he grinned, eyes following the leather glove’s trajectory. It landed on the bed with a soft thud. “You’re usually so strict _, Captain_.”

“Well, perhaps I _am_ a little biased.” Her own hand brushed over his stubble, _just_ rough enough to scratch. She followed his gaze to the bed. “In any case…we’re not on duty _now_.”


End file.
